Page 8 of To Claim His Highland Bride

His footsteps slowed as he pushed out the castle door and emerged into the courtyard. Torches and lanterns illuminated the courtyard as several guardsmen gathered and the horses were brought out from the stable saddled and ready. At the sight of him, the captain of the guard hurried towards Alastair. “Are we under attack?”

Graeme shook his head. “Worse. The tower guards saw three men abduct Rowena from along the shoreline.”

“Hellfire!” Alastair’s sense of unease gave way to fear. “Do we know who they were?” His hand fell to his sword.

“They wore dark clothing and hoods to cover their faces,” Graeme replied. “Not that the tower guards could have recognised them from that distance in the dark.”

A shuffling came from the doorway as Tormod MacLeod erupted into the courtyard dressed for battle with his clai’mor at his back, a broadsword at his hip, and a pistol tucked into his belt. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Callum emerged right behind his older brother. “Are we going into battle?”

“Not battle,” Alastair said. “On a search. Someone has abducted our sister.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Callum asked in shocked disbelief.

Tormod’s features clouded. “Any one of our enemies.”

Alastair headed for his horse. Graeme, Tormod, and Callum mounted as well. “Which direction did they head?”

The guardsmen took their saddles, and the gatekeeper opened the portcullis. “To the east,” Graeme said, sitting forward on his horse, ready to signal the guards who were mounted to ride out.

“It doesn’t mean they will maintain that course,” Alastair said with a frown as his gaze passed between his brothers and his friend. “We should divide the guardsmen, and each of us will lead a group in a different direction.”

“Who will guard the castle?” Callum asked.

“Our fairy sister, Aria,” Alastair replied. “She has proven she is more than capable with the help of the guards we will leave behind.”

With the safety of the castle having been determined, Graeme efficiently divided up the guardsmen then returned to where the MacLeod brothers waited. “Alastair, you head east. Tormod, go to the west. Callum, you should lead a group to the south, and I’ll head north. Three men should be no challenge for any of us but be on guard for anything. If these men were clever, they would have anticipated a large response from the MacLeods. They may have set traps.”

Alastair nodded. “May luck guide us all until our sister is safely returned.”

Tormod, Callum, and Graeme all brought a fist to their chests before they each rode into the waiting darkness beyond the castle gate.

*

Rowena opened her eyes. Darkness surrounded her as she tried to raise her hands to brush her hair from her face, only to find her wrists were bound. Her feet as well. She lay on her side atop something hard and cold. As she shifted her body in an effort to assess where she was, the scent of soil and lichens came to her. She was on the ground.

She cast her gaze about her, trying to determine if Bryce or her other two attackers were near, but was forced to close her eyes as whatever Bryce had used to drug her had left her dizzy and nauseated. She lay there for several long moments, forcing herself to breathe deeply until the sensation ebbed. The silence around her brought her a sense of comfort. Surely if anyone else was present, she would hear something.

What did Bryce have planned for her? He’d tried to force himself on her at their last meeting, but she and Fiona’s father had stopped him short of his goal. Would he try such a thing again? If he meant to rape her or even kill her, it would have been easy enough to do while she was senseless. Nay, he wanted her alive and unspoiled, at least for the moment, and the reason had something to do with Marcus.

The only scenario that made any sense was that Bryce would hold her hostage and demand ransom from Marcus now that he had returned for her. A roaring filled Rowena’s ears at the thought that Marcus hadn’t come for her immediately. What did that mean? Bryce had only said he’d seen Marcus’s ship, not the man himself. Had Marcus been killed or injured during his voyage?

Rowena drew a ragged breath as a sense of impending loss swamped her. With her next breath, she forced the thought away. Marcus lived; she knew it. If he had died, she would feel it in the depths of her soul. With the same certainty, she told herself that Marcus would come for her now. Fate might have sent them in two different directions, but she did not doubt his devotion to her. There was a reasonable explanation why he had not come to her immediately upon his return.

Despite all that, Marcus would know she needed saving and he would come for her. She was absolutely certain of that. Until he could find her, she had to help herself. Never would she allow Bryce to take away the future she’d planned and waited for six long months to achieve.

Her senses returning to normal once more, Rowena opened her eyes. Darkness still pervaded the space she occupied, yet even without light she could see a few feet in front of her. She was in a room of some sort with an earthen floor. Silencing her thoughts, she listened. Beyond whatever walls contained her, she could hear male voices. What they said, she couldn’t make out. But she also noted the sound of water softly lapping against a shoreline in the distance and the unmistakable bark of seals she heard every night while watching the horizon for Marcus’s ship. Loch Dunvegan was home to many harbour seals. Did that mean Bryce hadn’t taken her far from home?

Determined to be free of her restraints, Rowena straightened her legs only to discover she could move her ankles only a few fingers’ length apart. Her hands she could not separate at all. They were tied palm to palm with the knot on the outside of her right hand. She tried to bend towards her hands, intent on using her teeth to loosen the knot, when the door of the chamber opened and Bryce stepped inside. In one hand he held a lantern, in the other a chair.

Yellow-gold light spilled through the chamber, revealing a small cottage. The only building of the sort near the loch were crofters’ cottages that sat farther up the coastline from Dunvegan. But this cottage was not made of wattle and daub as those were. This one was constructed of oak. She had no time to further her observations as Bryce dropped the chair and rushed towards her.

“What are you doing?” He yanked her to her feet, then reclaimed the chair and shoved her onto it. He set the lantern down and grabbed another length of rope that waited by the door. Rowena writhed and bucked against the chair as he held her pressed against it, but Bryce’s strength outmatched hers. Eventually he was able to wind the rope about her chest, securing it behind her, making escape nearly impossible.

“Where am I?” she demanded.

He stepped back and appraised her through slitted lids. “You are in the perfect hiding place. Close to your family but in a place they will never think to look for you.”